That Sinking Feeling
by tipsyBandit
Summary: Lovino is sinking. Drowning in his own misery. Will a certain spaniard be able to save his friend? idk about the rating. tell me if you think i should rate it as 'M'.  WARNING- suicide/cutting.
1. Diving

**TheBoogyman-**

**Yo. Weeeeeee new story time! This one is kind of dramatic and emotional, especially compared to my other stories which were either a) fluffy b) stupid c) all of the above. This one centers on Lovino's dark inner thoughts and what goes on behind all the angry yelling and cursing in Italian. Gahh, I can't even be serious in my author's notes. I have no idea how I'm gonna write this story.**

**Everything is disclaimed. Except the plot. That's mine.**

**Diving**

It started about a year ago. At first, it was just cutting. It didn't matter. It's not like he was going to kill himself. He only did it because he could. Or, more likely, because he knew his brother couldn't. It was something that made them different. Which was what he wanted, right? To be different…

He doesn't know what he wants anymore. He can't be Feli, no matter how hard he tries. He always just makes himself look like an idiot. But he's too scared to be himself. Too much of a pussy.

He hates himself. He's pathetic. Just a worthless copy of his younger sibling. And not even a good copy at that. That's how it went from 'I'm not suicidal, I just need an outlet," to "I just wish I could die. Just crawl in a deep dark hole and die."

So he cuts along the vain, both arms. Just to see if he can bleed out. No luck, he just wakes up the next morning in a pool of blood feeling fine. That's when he discovers it.

_I can't die_

He needs to find a way. An escape. Something that can put an end to his miserable existence. He buys a notebook. Just your average small, marble notebook. And, no. he is not going to write shitty emo poetry in it. His not a complete wimp. No, just going to use it to organize his plans.

First page; the things he hates about himself. But the list just keeps growing and growing. It reaches 7 pages after that before he gives up and, on the verge of tears, skips ahead a dozen pages. At the top, he writes in big, curvy hand writing 'ATTEMPTS'. Then he starts to write.

Slit you wrists

Shoot yourself

Drown

Take a shit load of vicodin

The list goes on and on. 114 ways to off himself. And those are just the ones he can think of off the top of his head. He'll try everyone if he has to. Because there is no way in hell he can't die. He can't just NOT DIE. He needs to die. Because if he's condemned to this existence, he just doesn't know what to do…

He hears someone opening the door downstairs and then a loud mixture of German, Italian and Spanish greetings. Feliciano must have invited some friends. Probably the potato bastard and the _pomodoro_bastard. Whatever. He needed to get out there before one of those idiots came up here.

He begins putting his things away and starts to rush when he hears footsteps coming up the stairs. He quickly dries his eyes and rushes to the door and swinging it open. Spain is standing in the door, his left hand curled into a fist, ready to knock at Romano's door.

"Oh, it's you. What do you want, stronzo," his says with false malice and Antonio's happy-go-lucky grin fades when he looks at his former charge. Spain notices the red in the smaller mans eyes. It's easy to see he's either been crying or smoking pot. Antonio decides to go with the former instead of the latter.

"Lovino… are you feeling alright?" the Spaniard asks, genuine concern mixing in with his Spanish accent. Romano is taken aback by this sudden change in the Spaniards mood. But then Feli steps up behind him and cuts down the tension building between the two before it could even amount to anything.

"Ve~. Is everything alright? Are you coming to the party Romano?" his sibling says cheerily.

"ABSOLUTLY NO-" The Spaniard silences him by draping his arm over the two Italian's shoulders and confirming Lovino's attendance.

"Of course he's coming! Who would want to spend a Saturday night all alone in his room!" the always overly-cheery Toni says brightly.

"I would," Romano says grouchily, but doesn't protest any further. Instead, he resides himself to mopping over being dragged out of the over-whelming, dark depression of his room.

He just know he's not going to enjoy himself. He just knows it.

~.~.~.~.~

_Yup. I was right. Didn't enjoy that party one single bit._

Those are his thoughts as he sets his car keys down on the desk and prepares for bed. But when he opens his top dresser drawer to pull out a more comfortable pair of pants, he sees a small, blood-stained knife sitting on top of his favorite pajama bottoms.

He can't help himself.

'_You just have no fucking will power, huh?_ 'he thinks bitterly as he picks up the knife and steps quietly into his closet.

He sits silently on the floor and plugs in his IPod and the classical music begins to play. He slides out of his dark blue hoodie and tucks it behind him. He doesn't want to ruin another one. He's already destroyed at least 5 with his 'suicidal tendencies'.

It's dark in the closet, pitch black in fact, but he doesn't need the light. Not anymore. His right hand picks up the blade of its own accord. His body goes into automatic. He's done this so many times he doesn't even need to think about it. He feels the cool metal of the miniature hunting knife press against the blue vein in his left arm. He doesn't know why he favors the left. That's just how it started. His body goes numb as he feels the blade press into his olive skin.

He doesn't remember anything after that when he wakes up the next morning with a killer headache, Franz Ferdinand buzzing away at his ear, and a bloody mess all over his left arm and one of his favorite shirts.

'_Of course, it had to be THIS shirt I choose to mutilate myself in_," he thinks groggily. But he doesn't fuss; he's used to everything he touches turning to complete and utter dog-shit. He sighs as he moves to stand up, but pauses, leaning on his right knee. He hears his bedroom door opening. He presses his ear to the wood door and listens silently, barley breathing.

"Ve~ Romano, you up?" his younger brother says, poking his head in the door. "Huh. Guess he's up early! Thought he'd still be upset from last night." He hears Feliciano say to no one in particular as he steps out the spacious bedroom. Romano sighs and opens the closet door and steps out. Stretching, then examining the damage from the night before, he decides to take a shower. Grabbing his towel on the way out, the Italian pokes his head out of the room to check the hallway. When he's sure the coast is clear he steps out and makes his way down the hall to the bathroom.

Once the door is closed and locked, Lovino turns on the faucet and strips down to his '_birthday suit'_. He steps in and turns the water up a little warmer. He loves being warm. It makes him feel not so crappy. He sighs as the water hits his back and lets his mind wander to the night before as he starts to cleanse himself of yesterday's filth.

_He steps through the door into Ludwig's large house and feels himself automatically tense up from being around so many people. It makes him uncomfortable. He always feels like they're all staring at him._

'_Calm down, idiot. Why would they stare at you? It's not like you matter' he thinks ruefully to himself. Oddly enough, it's the self loathing that calms him down. Really, who would be looking at him? He's just the lower, less interesting half of the Italian peninsula, after all._

_But unfortunately for the little antihero of this story, someone was watching him._

_Frances looked up from to see Romano leaning against the far wall glaring aimlessly at anything that was unfortunate enough to step into his line of site. Next to him his good friend Antonio was speaking animatedly, most likely about his tomato plants. He continued watching until the Spaniard spotted someone across the room and bid Romano fair-well. That's when the Frenchman made his move._

_He walked lithely across the room, like a panther approaching his unsuspecting prey. Even being as far from sober as he was, he maintained a certain grace in all his movements. He managed to sneak up on the Italian, who was too lost in his own self hatred to notice the approaching danger._

"_Well… if it isn't Mr. Abrasive himself. Now what could be occupying your thoughts so much that you did not notice the fabulous ME watching you from the other side of the room?" Frances whispered seductively in 'Mr. Abrasive's ear while lightly tugging on his curl. Romano swiftly turned to his direction and smacked him across the face before stalking off to the backyard of Germany's large home. Undeterred, France continued to follow him to the spacious back porch, where he found the Italian leaning against the wood railing. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the Frenchman creeping up on him once again or the fact that his ass was poking out in an ever so appetizing way…_

"_Well, I think your just TRYING to attract my attention…" Frances said lustfully, leaning into Lovino's rear-end. The red-head scoffed, and tried to push the offending body out of his personal space but found that he could not._

"_Get off me, stronzo. I thought I already established that I don't like you." Romano stated angrily. Frenchy was really starting to tick him off. He knew that he was drunk but Frances was taking things a little too far._

_Not that there was anything unusual about that._

"_Aww. Why so mean, __mon__ amour? I promise I'll be gentle."Frances said smoothly as he flipped the younger man around to face him._

"_It's seems you can't understand me past all the liquor you've had. Let me make it clearer for you. PISS OFF." He pulled back his fist to punch the Frenchman square in the teeth, but it seems Frances was not quite as drunk as he had anticipated and was able to catch Lovino's fist mid-swing. The older man's eyes darkened._

"_Now Lovi," The nation's voice dropping to a frightening tone. "You shouldn't have done a mean thing like that…" Frances takes the smaller man's hand and pins it against one of the support beams that hold up the roof over the porch._

"_T-toni! ANTONIO!" The terrified country shouts as France begins unbuttoning his jeans. Antonio runs in breathless, just in time to see Romano knee his old friend in the balls. Hard._

"_OOF!" The Frenchman slumps to the floor and passes out cold as several other interested countries gather to view the scene._

"_What's… going on here?" The Spaniard asks cluelessly. Before he can stop himself, Romano starts sobbing quietly into his hands. Antonio rushes over and clutches his friend to his chest while the Italian mental screams at himself for being such a sissy._

'_Man up! Your fine idiot! Don't cry like a pussy!' He forces himself to suck it up. He whimpers quietly against Spain's warm chest before addressing his concerned friend._

"_C-can you d-drive me home?" he whispers softly. The Spaniard nods, leading the young man through the house. He pauses before leaving to speak with Gilbert._

"_Bye Gilbo. I have to take Lovi home. Please tell France I am very angry with him and I will not speak to him until he apologizes."_

"_Mkay. I'll tell the idiot when he wakes up. Bye Toni. Bye Romano, sorry about Frances," Prussia said as his friend departed._

_The drive was long and quite. Lovino was, surprisingly, the first one to break the silence._

"_Umm…Toni?" the young nation whispered from his laying position in the back seat._

"_Yes Lovino" The Spaniard questioned. He was still a little worried after the crying episode at Ludwig's house._

"_Thanks. For… you know." He said shyly. Antonio couldn't help but grin._

"_AWWW! Lovi that's so sweet!" Toni gushed, reverting back to his cheery, dimwitted self._

"_Just shut up and pay attention to the road, dumbass," He says embarrassedly._

'_Smooth, Vargas. Real smooth. Could you be any more of a dick?" He thinks, instantly regretting his choice in words._

"_Lovi! Don't use such language! You should try and be a little nicer like your adorable brother, Feli," The Spaniard says in a joking, off-hand comment. But it cuts deep when Romano hears him say it. It felt like adding salt to an open wound._

_Lovino doesn't speak the rest of the car ride home. He gives Spain a rushed goodbye and a quick 'thanks' before letting himself into his home._

A knock at the door stirs Romano from his reminiscing.

"Ve~ Lovi, breakfast is ready!" a cheery voice shouts over the noise of the shower. Romano sighs.

"Be out in a minute. Now GO AWAY." He states flatly. He finishes his shower, taking his time to rinse the blood caked on his arm. Ironically enough, he thinks cleaning the wound the morning after hurts much more than inflicting it. He lets out a slight hiss of pain as the hot water makes contact with the scared skin.

He proceeds with his morning as normal, if not a little gloomier. He spends the day laying in bed until 5 when his brother leaves to see a movie with Ludwig.

After that, he hangs himself. But it doesn't go exactly as planned. Instead of dying, he just keeps choking until he stops breathing and he passes out. But then he wakes back up and starts chocking all over again. He gives up after the 7th time. It leaves an ugly bruise on his neck that makes his brother question.

"I fell," he just keeps replying, refusing to go into too much detail.

And in this way he is able to continue on life as normal. I'm fine. I fell. I drank the drain-o accidentally. After a while, Feli stops questioning his brother's strange injuries.

But Antonio doesn't.

He knows something's wrong, he just can't figure out what. But he keeps pressing on in the hope that one day, Lovino will open up to him. But he doesn't. Because Lovino Vargas is not an open book. No, Lovino Vargas is a man diving deeper into his own misery.

**Yay! First chappy is done! Not as dark and depressing as I hoped it would be. And I think I like the second chapter better. By the way, I wrote chapter 2 first.**

**Anyway, reviews are much appreciated! :3**

**Kthxbai.**


	2. Drowning

TheBoogyman-

Hi! Chapter two is up! YAY! I actually wrote this before chapter one because THIS was supposed to be chapter one. Well, anyway, here goes.

**Disclaimer- Does it look like I own Hetalia?**

Drowning

"77" he mumbles quietly to no one in particular as he tilts jug of bleach back to meet his pink lips. He takes a few gulps but has to pause after the forth because it tastes horrible.  
'Suck it up, you pussy,' he thinks bitterly to himself. He lifts the bottle again and finishes what's left before setting it down and wiping the spillage off his chin.  
"Ve~ fratello, are you ready for the meeting? We don't want to be late again..." he hears his brother call from the other side of the laundry room door.  
"Don't fucking rush me. I'll be ready when I'm ready, dammit!" Fuck, why did he have to say it like that? Why couldn't he be nicer? Why couldn't he be more like his brother? Why couldn't he be Feli?  
These were the thoughts racing through his brain as he waited for the bleach to work its magic.  
He found it kind of ironic that he was trying bleach this time. Bleach was used to take stains out of clothes and here he was using it to remove a stain from the face of the earth.  
That is, if it worked this time. Like he said, 77. Meaning 76 other tries before this one. Each time more of a failure than the last. Drowning, burning, cutting, hanging. It all ended the same. Waking up passed out on the floor the next morning feeling completely fine. He hated that feeling. Hated it with a passion. It made him feel like even more of a miserable pathetic failure. It made him wish that he wasn't a nation, just so he could put himself out of his misery. He glanced at his watch.  
'Ten more seconds..." he thought to himself  
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick,, tick, tick, tick.  
"No effect," he says quietly as he scribbles out the words 'drink bleach' in the small notebook sitting on the dryer. He's been keeping a journal for the past year and a half listing all the ways he could try to off himself. This was his seventy seventh attempt.  
He sighs as he closes the notebook at steps out of the small laundry room.  
"Ve~ What were you doing in there? You don't even know how to use the washing machine!" Feliciano says with a slight giggle. Lovino hated that he couldn't be care-free like that. That he couldn't smile and laugh. He hated that he would always just be second best compared to Feli. 'That's why you do it.' He reminds himself. That's why he wants to end it all. One can only stand to be second best for so long before it starts to wear them down.  
"Let's just go. We're gonna be late," he grumbles brushing past his little fratello, skulking down the hall in a worse mood than he was earlier that morning. Another failure. 'Stupid bleach,' the hot-blooded Italian thinks, blaming the bleach for his accursed inability to die no matter how hard he tried. It just wasn't fair.  
The drive to the meeting was a short one, much to Lovino's pleasure. He loved his brother, and he enjoyed pasta quite a bit, but he could not stand to sit there and listen to him babble on about how wonderful it is. He was extremely grateful when he saw the large office building that the meeting would be held in come into view.  
They were meeting to talk about global warming or peace in the middle or some other crap. He didn't care. It's not like his opinion mattered. Not like he'd be missed. It's not like anyone would come to look for him if he died on the floor, having bled to death from slitting a major artery in his wrist or poisoning himself by 'accidentally' mistaking bleach for water. No one would look because no one would care. And could he blame them?  
He was pathetic. A crybaby. Fat. Ugly. Stupid. A wimp. An asshole.  
'_Pathetic_' he thought silently to himself as he gripped the steering wheel, gazing down into his lap.  
"Umm... Romano? Ar- are you alright? DIO MIO! MY BROTHER IS BROKEN!" The younger Italian sobbed, snapping Lovino out of his self loathing. He looks up to see his hopelessly innocent brother standing outside the car on the passenger side, crying like a baby out of fear for his dear fratello.  
"Shut up, idiot. I'm fine. I'm just tired. Let's just get this fucking meeting over with..." he grumbles, getting out of the car. His head spins slightly as he stands and he grabs the door of his cherry red Ferrari, but his brother doesn't notice and just continues babbling about how worried he was.  
'_Wow. Maybe the bleach IS working,_' he thinks cynically, lips curling into a rueful smirk. '_Oh that's great. I hope I go before that idiot American starts talking..._' He continues his dark thoughts during the elevator ride up to the 22nd floor and on to the short walk to conference room C. He starts to feel himself steadily get more lightheaded and blinks a few times to regain his focus. He quietly walks into the meeting, hiding behind his brother who was chatting away cheerily with the younger potato bastard. He was hoping to avoid him. The one he admired, looked up to. The one he loved. The one he could never be good enough for...  
"Lovi~! I'm so glad you're here" The Spaniard said joyously, hugging the smaller Italian man enthusiastically.  
"Get OFF me, pomodoro bastard," he states, but it doesn't have its usual bite to it. The bleach is really getting to him now...  
He can't understand why Spain even humors him. Why bother? He can already tell that the Spaniard loves his brother more then him  
_Your adorable… but he's cuter  
I love you… but I love him more  
Your good… but he will always be better_  
The thoughts echoed through his head. He knows Toni doesn't mean things to come out that way, but what is he supposed to think when the Spaniard tells him about how much he wishes that he could have had Feliciano too. He knows that he's not enough for the man. Knows he'll never be worthy of kind-hearted, sweet Antonio, so he just keep trying to push him away...  
He sighs quietly as he takes a seat between Matthew and Antonio. He has a soft spot for the Canadian. He knows what it's like to feel ignored and tries his very best to acknowledge the man whenever he can.  
"Morning Matthew," he can hear his speech slurring slightly. Matthew doesn't seem to notice, and if he does he brushes it off.  
"Good Morning, Lovino! You just made it. I thought we were going to have to start without yo-" Matt is cut off mid-sentence by his twin's over-powering voice.  
"Now that everyone's here, let's get started! I think..." Lovino tunes out after that. He's really starting to feel funny and his tongue is going numb. He feels a tickle in the back of his throat and he coughs quietly to get rid of it. But when he pulls his hand back a red stain is reveled. The two nations beside him notice almost instantly.  
"Lovino you're bleeding!" Matthew shouts, alerting Alfred and Arthur, who were having a shouting contest, to the situation at the other side of the large table.  
"Sí! Lovi we need to take you to the hospital!" Spain cries anxiously.  
"Shut up, idiot. I'm fi-" a sharp pain in his abdomen silences him. He clutches his rips with one hand and covers his mouth with his hand to keep from crying out in pain. Suddenly, he feels something coming up the back of his throat and jumps from his chair. He flees the conference room and heads straight for the nearest toilet with Spain, Italy, and several other confused countries in tow.  
Spain is the first one into the bathroom after him and heads straight for the stall the sickening heaving sounds are coming from.  
In the stall, he found that Romano was busy empting the contents of his stomach into the poor innocent toilet, who, just a few moments ago had been minding his own business.  
When the Italian had finished purging himself of the frothy, reddish mixture of bleach, blood, and oatmeal, he coughed a few times before addressing the Spaniard weakly from his place on the cool bathroom floor.  
"Leave...now...I'm fine...just *_cough_*... GO," he managed to breathe out heavily between his gasping for air and coughing up what he assumed were either remnants of his lungs or chunky bits of breakfast. But Antonio can't leave. He can't look away. He can't move. And he doesn't know what to do as he watches his young friend drown. The room spun quickly before Romano blacked out and slumped to the floor. Before his mind went dark, he could hear someone shouting for an ambulance and his brother crying in the background as Antonio rushed over to lift him off the cold, unforgiving bathroom tiles.

End chapter 1


	3. Treading Water

**TheBoogyman-**

**Ok, before I start, I would just like to say that WindStar72's comment made me giggle a little bit, even though I know it wasn't meant to be funny. Anyway, thanks to everyone who reads and reviews my crappy fanfiction and here goes chapter three. Also, I am very sorry to ****MTVQ****, who I made cry. And in regards to Kronos930's comment, I'm not so sure that it was intended to be that way in the beginning, but that's what I meant after I started writing it. I was originally going to have Romano die, but I love him too much and that would make Toni sad. Sorry about typing my replies to the comments here but I have yet to figure out how to reply to comments individually (someone please explain it to me!)**

**~Hetalia has been disclaimed by me. If I owned it, Toni would have butt-raped Romano a long**** time ago.~**

**~.~.~.~.~.~.**

**Treading Water**

When he opened his eyes, Lovino assumed he was in heaven. Granted, he didn't believe he deserved heaven, but he was still kind of relieved to have finally finished himself off.  
He was laying on something soft and cool. 'Really soft heaven-clouds' he assumed. And it was very bright. Blindingly, in fact. The light was such a shock to his eyes that it took them almost a minute to adjust. He was about to sit himself up when something next to him stirred. That's when he noticed the tan arm laying across his stomach.  
He looked over at the snoozing Spaniard at his side and thought 'Nope. Not heaven. I just KNEW I was gonna get sent to hell."  
Sitting up in bed, he takes in his surroundings. An all white room complete with a white bed with white sheets and pillows with a white chair next to it, which currently held Antonio, and a T.V. hanging in the corner of the room. It was just a standard hospital room.  
'_So... I'm not dead?_' Lovino thought hopelessly, looking around for some form of recognition that he had moved on to the afterlife. When he found none, he slumped back against his pillow in defeat.  
Lovino Vargas had officially given up. He'd failed AGAIN. And really, who fails at killing themselves?

'_Me, apparently_.' He thinks bitterly.  
Sighing, he turns back to his fellow nation, who is just stirring from his sleep.  
It takes Antonio a few seconds to rub the sleep from his eyes and fully wake up, but when he does, he is rewarded with the sight of his little Lovino awake and breathing.  
"Lovino! You're awake! _Dios mio_, are you alright?" Toni asks. Lovino can see the stress written all over friends face. His clothes are wrinkled (probably from sleeping on Romano) and he has a shock of gray hairs mixed in with his chocolate-brown locks. And while the almost-white hairs looked cool, he can't help but feel terrible for what he's done.  
"Yeah. I'm... fine." He lies, looking anywhere else to avoid his concerned friend's gaze.  
"Thank God. I was so worried." The Spaniard says with a relieved sigh. Then silence fills the room as Romano waits for the onslaught of questions he's sure were waiting for him while he recovered from his self-inflicted injuries.  
"Romano?"  
"Hm?" The Italian says, looking up.  
**SMACK!**  
Romano is stunned. Did... did Spain just... slap him?  
"WHAT THE FUCK!" The young man shouts, clutching a hand to his wounded cheek. Looking up at the larger nation looming over him shooting him a rage filled glare.  
"DONT 'WHAT THE FUCK' ME, YOU IDIOT. WHY WOULD YOU- No. How could you-... WHY! Arrg!" The distraught Spaniard shouted before exhausting himself and subsequently falling back in his chair. Sitting there, holding his head in his hands, Lovino can just see how defeated he is. Antonio doesn't know how to handle this at all.  
"I'm sorry," he whispers meekly. He's not sure what to do next, but he knows he should be sorry for causing so much trouble.  
"Don't be. You have nothing to apologize for. Just... tell me why. Why would you do this to yourself?" Toni questions weakly. He's run out of energy to yell at his friend.  
And before he can stop himself, Romano burst into tears. Tears of defeat and exhaustion and desperation. Because he's done. He's done and tired. He's officially given up because he doesn't know what else to do.  
"BECAUSE I'M USELESS!" He sobs helplessly as his old friend grabs him and pulls him into a much needed hug.  
"I'm useless and stupid and pathetic and you love him more than me! I'm not good enough and I suck at everything! I'm pathetic! I can't do anything right! I couldn't even kill myself correctly and now everyone hates me! I'm just a stupid crybaby who will never be as perfect as Feli! And look, now I'm crying! AGAIN!" He continues. It feels good to finally get everything off his chest. And it feels even better to have Toni hold him until he feels better.  
"Oh, I ruined your shirt... I'm sor-" Romano starts, still sniffling.  
"Don't. It's fine. It's just a shirt." The older man says soothingly, patting down his distraught friends hair. When Lovino finally stops whimpering, Toni wipes away his tears and begins to speak.  
He tells him that he loves him. And that he's only kidding when he tells him to be like Feliciano. Because he loves him for the angry, hot-blooded Italian he is.  
And then he apologizes and Romano is stunned because Antonio hasn't done anything to be sorry for.  
"I wasn't there for you when you needed me. I should have noticed something was wrong and I didn't. I'm so sorry Lovino. But don't worry. Because I'm going to fix this. And I don't care how long it takes. I love you so much, Lovi. I just can't stand to see you like this anymore."The older nation says on the verge of tears. Lovino can't help but cry again as his friend pulls him in for another embrace.

"Hey Toni?"

"Yes Lovino?"

"That smack hurt. Like, _a lot_."  
**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

People came in and out of the room to visit Lovi until a little after noon. Matthew had come to play cards and smoke pot with him. Spain smacked the Canadian over the head for that one, stating that '_weed will NOT help him recover, Matthew_,'. Then came The Bad Touch Trio, who really just sat around and harassed him, but Romano secretly enjoyed the attention. And while he still hadn't entirely forgiven France for that night at Ludwig's house, he was willing to bury the hatchet. For now. And even Gilbird came to comfort him. He never trusted the little yellow chick, but he had to admit, it was friggin adorable. Next came Ludwig, and instead of goofing off, they set aside their differences long enough to find a way to help Feliciano deal with this without inhibiting his recovery. The last person to visit would be Feli himself, and Romano was counting down every second until he had to face his brother.

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~  
**

Feliciano forced himself to hold back tears as he gazed at his older brother. He knew he needed to be strong right now. But he's not good at being strong. That was always Romano's job. All he wanted to do was hold onto his brother and cry until everything was ok again.  
But now was not the time. Because this Italian had something important to say.  
"You're a liar, fratello. You said you were fine. Liar" he says, sending a pointed glare toward the man who was finally able to sit up in bed. Lovino gave him a tired look before starting the conversation he'd already rehearsed in his head. He'd apologize, Feli'd get over it, and then he'd give him the big news.  
"I know. And I'm so-" Feli interrupts him in a serious, but very tired, tone.  
"Don't apologize to me. Toni is the one who hasn't slept in 4 days." He says, crossing his arms in front of him in attempt to look tough. Romano rolled his eyes. He knew his brother was faking it.  
"Drop the act, Feli. I know your upset. You've always been terrible at hiding it." Lovino said, folding his arms too. Feli couldn't help himself any longer. The tears burst forth and he started sobbing uncontrollably. Romano wrapped his arms around his younger brother to comfort him but it was no use. The young Italian was inconsolable, so Lovino just let him cry himself out. When Feli had finished crying, Romano pulled him into his lap.  
"Alright. I know now is not the best time, but I have to tell you eventually. Feliciano, I'm going to live with Antonio for a little while. Just a few months. He said he wants to keep an eye on me and make sure I'm ok before I go home. I didn't want you at the house alone, so I asked macho potat- I mean, _Ludwig_ to let you stay at his house. This will only be for a little while. And I'm going to come and visit you as much as I can. Ok?" Feli nods but stays silent, leaning on his brother's chest. Lovino sighs as he strokes the young nations head. He hates to do this to him, but Spain didn't give him much of a choice. It was this or a mental hospital for at least a year.  
A knock at the door makes the brothers look up. Antonio is standing in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame.  
"Perdóneme, but Romano you really should start getting ready to go. Yours and Feli's things have been moved to their respective locations." The Spaniard says calmly.  
"H-hello Antonio."Feli breathes out, the hint of a genuine smile starting to form on his face. Toni's presence just has a strange way of lightening the mood.  
"Hola Feli! Sorry about all this trouble, but I think Lovino coming to live with me is for the best. And I'm sure you will have tons of fun with Ludwig and Gilbert!" He says, ushering the younger Italian out of the room.  
"Now, I need to help your brother get dressed. We'll meet you and Gilbert in the lobby." Toni says cheerfully, closing the door behind him.  
"I do NOT need help getting dressed." Romano said, glaring at the older nation.  
"Lovi, you haven't used your legs in 4 days. A little help would not hurt."  
"Shut up! I can handle it!" He shouts frustratedly, climbing out of bed. He can barley stand for a few seconds before collapsing to his knees. Antonio rushes over to his fallen friend and helps him to his feet. Romano stands, leaning slightly on the Spaniard for support.  
"Sure you don't need my help?" Toni says pouting down at the young nation. Romano sighs, which Spain takes as a hint to start helping him out of the hospital clothing.  
Getting the young man dressed was less time-consuming than Antonio thought it would be. The shirt was easy and Romano was able to put it on himself. The jeans were tricky though, taking quite a bit of maneuvering on the Spaniard's part, as Lovino insisted that his friend should not touch him. But when the task was done, Lovi seemed to have gained back most of the control over his legs, only stumbling a little as they exited the room and headed for the checkout center. A few signatures later, Romano was a free man.  
As they stepped into the elevator, the Italian turned toward his friend.  
"Toni?"  
"Hm?"  
**SMACK!**  
"...Ow?" The confused Spaniard said, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head.  
He turns to Lovi, who is staring at the elevator door as if nothing had happened. Toni giggled and reached over, pulling his fellow nation into a warm, smothering hug. And this time, Romano didn't try to stop him, instead, leaning into the warmth radiating off his friend.  
As the elevator doors opened, Lovi wiggled out of Toni's arms to greet his brother with a hug.  
"Umm... Lovi? Are you feeling ok?" Feliciano questions. It's very rare that his fratello would hug him like this.  
"Yea. I'm fine." Romano says calmly, but the words are muffled because his face is buried in Feli's neck. Sighing, Lovi lets go.  
He doesn't tell him, but he really just wanted one last hug before Feli leaves to live with the German brothers. He knows he won't see him again for quite some time and he's scared to death of what's to come.  
Lovino watches sadly from the passenger's seat of Antonio's car as his brother rides away in the back of Gilbert's.  
**~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

The rest of the day was spent helping Romano get settled into Spain's house. He took the bedroom adjacent to Antonio's. he was nervous about being away from Feli for so long, but the Spaniard insisted that the distance would help boost Lovi's self esteem. And though he would never admit it, the Italian was grateful for a chance to get closer to his former boss.

All in all, Lovino Vargas was just happy to finally, _finally_, be treading water in his personal sea of doubt.

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

**Mkay. That's it for this story. But don't worry, I'm gonna write a sequel. It's going to be a series of one shots of what's going on during Lovi's recovery. The First should be up either tomorrow or the day after that, so calm down pplz. I wouldn't leave you hanging like that :).**

**I cant decide on a title though, so I need your help;**

**'Swimming' ~or~ 'Stories of Recovery'**


End file.
